


Homesick

by ShadowLink720



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, anyway olberic is a Fool In Love........ erhardt is too who am i kidding, i rated it teen because they h-ld h-nds hehe, so. yeah. ch 4 spoilers i guess, technically it's post ch 4 because it's very recently after h'aanit's ch 4 and they did hers last
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowLink720/pseuds/ShadowLink720
Summary: Their journey is coming to a close, and Olberic finds himself yearning for the mountains he calls home.





	Homesick

Olberic is tired.

Physically too.

He wants to sleep.

But he's restless. And feeling off in a way he can't place. His chest hurts. His  _ heart  _ hurts.

He has been for a few nights in a row, now.

Eventually, he decides he can't just lie in bed and wait for sleep to take him. He needs to do something.

So he decides he should take a walk.

Careful to be as quiet as possible, Olberic slips out of the room and into the hallway. Marsalim's inn is quite sizeable, but it doesn't take long for Olberic to find his way outside, given his brisk pace.

He's greeted by the cold night air of the desert, a far cry from the unbearable heat of the day. 

He won't be one to complain, though, he vastly prefers the cooler temperatures. (When traversing the Sunlands, the Riverlands and the Cliftlands, he sometimes finds himself cursing his body for being  _ too  _ effective at retaining heat).

Despite the size of Marsalim, the streets are fairly quiet. There is a lot more sound than there would be in a tiny mountain village like Cobbleston, but when compared to the daytime bustle, the night is practically silent.

Olberic lets himself wander the mostly empty streets, until he finds himself on a raised path, overlooking the sands around the city.

The sands stretch on… and on, and on. They continue forever in every direction he looks, the moonlight casts them in a blue hue that gives the appearance of waves, like being in the middle of the sea, alone and frozen in time.

The Sunlands are geographically close to the Highlands - to home, but… he couldn't feel further from it, abandoned in this vast ocean.

…

Is that why his heart hurts? Homesickness? Olberic has heard it as a phrase many times in the past, but he never really considered that it could manifest as something so physical as pain.

It's an isolating feeling.

He takes a breath, and looks skyward, to the stars in the cloudless sky.

They, at least, give some sense of familiarity in this sea of sand.

Olberic is about to head back to the inn when he is stopped at the stairs back down to street level.

Stopped by none other than Erhardt, of all people.

Erhardt had come with the group to Marsalim to assist in hunting down Redeye… with the help of some extra persuasion from Primrose and Ophilia, at least.

Olberic opens his mouth to ask why he was here, but Erhardt quickly walks towards him and presses a finger to his lips to prevent the words from ever being said.

The question is writ clear in his eyes, it would seem, as Erhardt still answers in a hushed tone. "I heard you up and about," he says. "... Can't sleep, hm?"

Olberic turns away slightly, nodding his head.

Bringing his hand from Olberic's lips to the side of his face, Erhardt hums, gently coaxing him to turn his head back. And with a smile, Erhardt leans in to gently kiss Olberic where his finger had just been.

“I take it you can’t either, then.” Olberic mutters into his lips, unwilling to lean away. He’s noticed it, Erhardt looks tired as well. The Blazing Blade usually tended to look younger than his age, but the dark circles that lie under his usually piercing eyes, the scars across his calloused and battle hardened skin, his hair showing signs of silver that seems to shine under the stars… it all makes him look so much older. So world weary.

And world weary he is. They  _ both _ are. Time has changed them in a way most unkind, worn them down and left them battered and bruised. No longer are they the rather rowdy pair of young knights of Hornburg. They're just… tired.

Erhardt nods to confirm Olberic's suspicion, also unwilling to move away. Instead, he decides to wrap his arms around Olberic with a mischievous smile, and kisses him again. Olberic returns the embrace, of course. He can feel his entire body sigh as Erhardt moves his hands up to Olberic's shoulder blades. Erhardt's touch is gentle, but firm. It's not the ghost of a touch a lot of contact is. It doesn't leave his skin tingling with it's remnants. It's there. It's  _ real _ .

Because Erhardt is there, with him. Real. Not some figment of the imagination. Not some illusion.

He's here.

Erhardt has moved on (or down, rather) to kissing Olberic's neck. Tantalising little pecks that sends warmth right to Olberic's core.

This isn't the best place for that, out in the open.

Olberic clears his throat to get Erhardt's attention, and laughs under his breath, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, now."

Erhardt grins, "Come now, where's your sense of adventure? Of excitement?" He jokingly whispers, finally taking a step back.

"Do you want to head back inside, then? Or shall we wander a wee bit longer?" He asks.

Gods, looking at him properly now that he has taken a step back... he really is like the sun. Golden, radiant, passionate… He is most noticeable in the night, in the dark, where his whole self seems to glow. And he is hope. Hope that the wounds in their hearts will stop slowly bleeding, that it may finally close and be allowed to form scars.

Olberic wonders, for a moment, if Erhardt sees him as his moon, shimmering gently in his wake.

He shakes away the thought. Of course Erhardt wouldn’t think that. … He really needs to break the habit of being so… metaphorical when he’s tired. He’s no wordsmith, no poet. If anyone was, that would be Cyrus.

“Hey, you still in there?” Erhardt’s quiet question rather suddenly drags Olberic back out of his mind, and he realises he has yet to respond.

“Ah. Uh… I think I will stay out a little longer. You can head back ahead of me, if you wish.” He says. Olberic hopes that the dim light hides the colour rushing to his cheeks, but alas… Erhardt has keen eyes, he almost definitely noticed it.

“Mm… I’ll head in when you’re ready, if that’s all right with you.” Of course, what Erhardt meant was that he would leave if Olberic had specifically not wanted company. However, Olberic appreciates Erhardt’s presence, and communicates this by taking the other’s hand in his own, giving it a light squeeze.

Erhardt laughs.

Olberic still hasn’t gotten used to it - Erhardt’s laugh. It’s so bright… so  _ genuine _ . It makes Olberic’s heart skip a beat every single time it graces his ears.

And oh, how contagious it is.

“So… any reason why you couldn’t sleep?” Erhardt asks. “Is it just a restless spell, or…?”

Olberic slowly nods. “Aye… at least, somewhat.”

Erhardt’s head tilts in curiosity, but the look in his eyes tells Olberic that he needn’t say anything should he wish not to.

But he  _ does  _ want to. Too long has he internalised so many emotions, so many thoughts. To the point where he has trouble figuring out how to express himself. It’s something he wants to change, especially now, now that the doubt of his worth no longer plagues his mind.

“I’ve recently been feeling… displaced. I find myself thinking of the Highlands often, wanting to return… to the point where I feel it physically.” He takes his free hand and gestures to his heart.

“Oh, you poor wee soul.” Erhardt frowns, pulling Olberic back in for another hug. “Mm. it won’t be much longer now. We’ll be going back to Stonegard to check on H’aanit’s master anyway, won’t we? Once that’s done we can spend some time in Cobbleston. How’s that sound?”

Olberic hums. He’d like that. He’d like that a lot.

“Until then…” Erhardt’s voice lowers into a whisper, into Olberic’s ears. “You just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Olberic’s grip tightens around Erhardt, it tells Erhardt all he needs to know.

Here, like this, the world seems a little kinder.

* * *

They whittle away time, slowly, ever so slowly making their way back to the inn. Stealing kisses from one another and having little conversations all the while.

Erhardt is so easy to talk to. Olberic feels no awkwardness around him, no nervousness, it requires such little thought, such little energy.

But it’s over all too soon, as they find themselves back at the inn’s entrance. Perhaps this would be where they would (or perhaps should) part for the night, returning to their own rooms.

… But that’s not what happens. Instead, Erhardt tags along with Olberic all the way into his rented room.

And there, in the privacy of the room, Erhardt kisses Olberic again, deeper this time, and with his arms around Olberic’s neck and shoulders. Olberic, in turn, rests his hands on Erhardt’s hips.

However, it would seem they are both too tired to continue. So when they pull away, they slowly make their way into bed.

The Sunlands night is cold, but Erhardt provides a warmth that Olberic has sorely missed. He usually doesn’t mind the cold, but sometimes, particularly during those eight years, the coldest nights would be when he would find himself reminiscing of days past, of warmer nights by Erhardt’s side. And the loneliness would well up inside him, eat away at him. But there would be no one. No one to confide in. No one who could empathise. No one but the mountains to witness his tears. He had really, truly, been  _ alone _ .

But not anymore.

Erhardt was here. The one person who would understand that loneliness more intimately than anyone else.

Because he, too, had spent those eight years dwelling on that same loneliness.

As Erhardt’s breathing becomes deeper with sleep, Olberic finds the hole in his heart where he yearned for the mountains is filled, at least enough that it no longer hurts quite so unbearably.

Home is the Highlands, amidst the proud, ancient peaks. Home is in Cobbleston, small and peaceful within the steep cliffs. Home is the quiet mornings when the mist rolls in and coats the village in silence.

But most importantly, home is with Erhardt.

**Author's Note:**

> let them be soft and hold hands..................................................... you cowards...................................................


End file.
